ThisIsNotALoveStory
by That-Girl's-MAD
Summary: Seriously it's not, that isn't ironic or sarcastic. This is bc I cannot think of a name rn for this thing bc I don't know where it's going. This is kind of a thing to get back into writing. I actually write coherently thank you, and this is not a crack-fic. Set in ORAS, follows OC. Missing champion trouble. ...I hate summaries, read if you want. You'll know by 1st chap if you like
1. Chapter 1

DAMN lookit me alive again. Sorry Transformers fans I don't think I'll do much more with those.

If you're sweet enough that you like me for my writing and not the topic I'm writing about, then read on, I appreciate it.

Critiques are welcome but not expected.

Cal's current team:

-Traver, Manectric, M

-Prion, Skarm, M

-Casper, Swampert, M (possibly active, not decided yet)

-Bravo, Flygon, F (not active, in PC)

Rest to be determined, this is totally an as-I-go thing

There is rain. I can't figure out anything else yet, but there is rain. I can feel it tapping on my face, my neck, my coat sleeves. It doesn't feel cold, which is odd, because water always feels cold; it absorbs heat to evaporate. There must not be any heat to absorb. I don't feel anything besides the rain. Maybe I'm dead. The thought doesn't scare me like it should. I can't open my eyes. I don't think for a short while, until something that feels like a fist sticks in my back. It takes me a few seconds to wake up enough to get my eyelids to move. There's a huge navy-colored dog nose poking at my face, accompanied by nervous whining. Traver. He must've pawed me in the back.

"Fish breath," I mutter to him, "get your nose outta my face." His response is to slap his tongue right over my mouth and nose. "Ah, stop, stop Traver. Stop it. Your breath is rancid and your saliva is like slug juice." Feeling is returning to my limbs. I feel pressure: gravity. I'm lying half-on-my-side-half-on-my-stomach in a huge patch of black earth turned to mud by the rain. Traver, my Manectric, is hovering over me anxiously like he does when he doesn't know what to do because I haven't given him a command. "You doofus," I grumble to him and sit up, "what are you doing out of your pokeball?" Upon hearing "pokeball", Traver trots away from me and returns with said object in his mouth, tail wagging and tongue lolling out alongside his treasure. "That's not yours, Traver. I don't use pokeballs like that; it's a dive ball. And it's shattered. Where did you get it?" He drops it in the mud and barks at me, wagging his tail so violently his whole back half is shaking. I sigh. "Traver, assist." He freezes for a moment, and then brushes up beside me, allowing me to lean on him as I climb to my feet. The world swims a little, and I keep my hand planted firmly between the canine's shoulders. "Traver," I say, swallowing my nausea and pointing to the pokeball he's brought me, "find." He moves slowly forward with me, sniffs the pokeball for scent, and then leads me off toward the edge of the nearby woods. Another human form is crumpled near some bushes, but something isn't right. The person is a male in a dark-colored flight jacket, the kind you wear if you're doing some kind of aerial tricks with a flying pokemon. There's a dark patch under his head and his neck and back are twisted at impossible angles. _Arceus,_ I think, heart jolting in my chest, _he's dead._ I have a better look at myself now; I'm wearing my own stormy-gray flight jacket, though it's ripped in a few places, my flight goggles are around my neck and the right lens is scratched, there's a bad cut on my right calf and my lip is split. Things begin to return to me. "Traver, did we fall?" He wags his tail. I remember we were in an aerial fight now, I was Flying with Prion, my Skarmory. "Where's Prion," I ask my dog, worry seeping into my head. He leads me back toward where I fell where some bushes and a lone tree create a sheltered spot from the rain. There lies the silver bird, coated in mud and looking rather scruffy, but alive. "Are you all right?" I feel like crying. I know where we are and I know there's no help. Not now, anyway. A clear voice, or what might've been a voice, breaks the chaos in my head.

_I am not unscathed, but nothing is broken._ Prion is an interesting case. His father was a Xatu, and through some strange course of events he discovered he possessed the capability of telepathic speech. We often have conversations when I travel with him, and he prefers to remain outside of his pokeball in order to scout the area from above.

"Can you fly?"

_Once I am given a chance to get this mud off of my feathers, and my strength returns, I can fly us out of here, yes. I figure I'll have recovered by tomorrow._ When he talks to me, his voice pierces through every other thought in my head. It's almost a relief to listen to him, because I don't have to think for as long as he speaks. For someone with an unquiet and frenzied mind like my own, any break in the storm within is welcome. I sink down next to the bird with my back against the tree. I trace through the memories of how we got here. I drag my Nav+ out of my backpack, which Prion had had strapped to his flight harness, and turn on the message feature. I'm looking for any developments. Nothing. I sighed. I hadn't know what I was expecting; the Hoenn League was still in chaos. Traver seats himself brushed up against my shoulder like a sentinel, eyes staring out at the land around, searching for any threats.

"The champion is still missing."

_Mr. Stone?_

"Yes, him."

_You don't doubt what the twins suspect, then?_

"No, definitely not after this. It's pretty clear he was taken against his will, or this creep wouldn't have attacked me like that. At least we don't have to worry about him anymore, though I didn't want him to die."

_We acted in self-defense. There was nothing we could've done without perishing ourselves. Though I do have to admit, his Noctowl was a rather horrible flier. _

"I don't think he thought he was going to encounter anyone this early on in the escape. But we know one thing now; unless this guy was a decoy, they went north, toward the mainland."

_We will pursue then?_

"Not yet; not in the state we're in and not alone. We continue our course to the League first, and see if anyone will listen to us there."

_You're not a certified League trainer, Calcine. You haven't cleared the Four, let alone Mr. Stone. Don't expect them to pay you much attention. _

"Somebody there will listen, and then hopefully what I say will get echoed up to the people who can do something about it." I leaned against Traver's warm shoulderblade and let myself slide back into unconsciousness, running for the last time through the sequence of events that had gotten us here. When I woke, I decided, I would have a better grip on the situation.

When I'd first heard that the Champion was missing, I'd been not far from Lilycove City, picking around in the jungle between there and Fourtree. I'd heard the news via my PokeNav Plus (shortened to Nav+); it made horrible screeching alarm noises whenever any kind of horrible thing either nearby or Regionwide had happened. Locally it was usually things like Amber Alerts or Suspicious Vehicle/Persons warnings, but this time it had informed me that Steven Stone's whereabouts were not known to the League and that he could not be reached for communication. It was normal for Mr. Stone to be out where nobody could find him, but usually if the League pinged his Nav+ he would answer. There were areas of no reception, but Navs were honestly pretty smart; they would give a certain frequency if they sensed that they were going out of range, and this time had yielded no such frequency. I had immediately proceeded to Mossdeep City, where I'd encountered the gym leaders. They'd been surprisingly friendly to me, despite my complete lack of badges or any other kind of League certification. Tate had suggested first the idea of a kidnapping, and Liza seconded it. They claimed that they sensed negative feelings, such as mild trauma and fear, regarding Steven's disappearance. I didn't particularly care for the details, but I had taken the idea to be plausible at the least, likely at the most. There was a time when I'd first started my journey with Casper, my Mudkip (now a Swampert), in Kalos, when I'd have perceived the idea of a _Champion_ being _kidnapped_ to be ludicrous and a conspiracy theory, but I had learned through my four years travelling that Champions were mere gatekeepers, frequently defeated by trainers who passed through the Four, and therefore not as immune to well-planned captures as many naïve trainers would like to believe. I had then set out for the League; at that point it had been only several days' time since the disappearance, and it was a long flight (nearly a week) to the League, even from Mossdeep. I'd hoped to catch someone coming the other way, and on my third day into the flight, as I was passing over an island, I had: this now-deceased trainer and his likewise Noctowl. We hadn't exchanged many words, as it was clear from his demeanor that we would be fighting until one party tumbled to the ground; or in this case, both parties. I did remember the details of the battle, but chose not to think too much on them at this point. My mind was ragged and I needed sleep.

I woke again on what I presumed was the next day. Prion was cleaning his feathers: he couldn't fly if they were caked in mud or overly frayed. Thankfully there wasn't too much damage, only a few scratches along his right ribcage from the Noctowl's talons. His feathers were strong, and often times attacks would glance off of them as if they'd hit plate mail. One had to lift them up and out of the way in order to get to the flesh underneath. I returned Traver and climbed onto the huge bird's back.

"How fast is fast today, Prion?" He contemplated.

_I can clear almost 2 days' flight in one, if I really book it._ This was a lot coming from a bird who'd taken some hits in battle. I looked at my Nav+; I was one-and-a-half days out from the fall; if Prion could manage to speed like he said, we might reach the League on schedule. But I didn't want him to strain himself.

"Do what you can." He unfurled his wings and lunged forward, taking a few terrestrial steps and then letting his wings take our full weight, soaring forward for a moment, and then angling sharply upwards, arcing around as we climbed, steering toward our destination as he finished gaining altitude. I watched him for any sign of shaking or fatigue, but he gave none. Prion was my marathon flier; he could maintain an impossible speed for an even more impossible time, and still manage spurts of agility and aerial maneuvers along the way. This was why I had chosen to fly with him to the League, and not Bravo, my Flygon, who was slower unless in a dead-on sprint, and less inclined toward agility.

I should have enjoyed such a thrilling flight over the sea if it had been under any other circumstances; I loved the air currents near Mossdeep and when Prion flew at high speeds it made my heart race and my blood thicken with adrenaline. I loved to move in general; I was restless by nature and a wanderer, part of why I hadn't taken the League Challenge when I came to Hoenn three-and-a-half years ago: I had been consumed by exploring every corner of the Region. And I had thoroughly enjoyed (and still was thoroughly enjoying) myself at said task. The thought of setting foot where few others had been with a close-knit team of companions along for the ride made my eyes glitter with some strange form of ambition—though without any need for fame or glory. I just wanted to see these places for myself. I wanted to write down things about these incredible places, sketch things and write things and bring all of this back for others to see who were either not up to visiting themselves or were simply put off by travel. I loved Hoenn. The people here were laid back and surprisingly friendly. It was a lot different from where I'd lived before, in Kalos.

Prion and I flew nonstop for eighteen hours before landing at a small island about three hours' flight from the League. Night had swallowed a good portion of our journey, and though Prion had exceptional vision, even in the dark, I didn't want to risk approaching the League when we were so tired. It was very probable that we'd be caught by aerial sentinels and turned away for my lack of certifications, and Prion wouldn't be able to stand another six hours airborne, though he might've managed three. We only rested for about four hours before daylight returned and we prepared to leave. I was too focused to pay attention to my appearance; though I had clawed a lot of dried mud out of my hair and brushed more off of my jacket. The rips in my clothes would not easily be repaired, and despite my cleaning the scratch on my calf looked menacing and throbbed when I touched it. I slapped more antibiotics on it and Prion and I set off again.

We reached the League sometime in the late morning, but found no sentinels circling. We flew low just in case they were roosting, but still found no opposition. When we landed we were thunderstruck: the place was so packed that miniature pokemon centers had been set up outside of the main building. Lots of people had come, apparently, in response to the chaotic disappearance of Steven Stone. I saw Diantha from Kalos and a couple other Kalosian League trainers (identifiable by their clothing), and immediately slunk off as far as possible from them. I finally made my way to the main building and waited an hour and a half for an available shower. A few Hoenn-natives and one Unova-native were very kind and allowed me to pass in front of them, being so horribly cloaked in mud and sweat as I was (the Unova-native was in front of two Kalosians, and still let me pass: this agitated the two behind him and sparked a heated argument in French, which the Unova-native surprisingly spoke fluently, and ended with the appearance of a rather intimidating Braviary that silenced the Kalosians). I had finally managed to clean myself up, and was in a line of similar length for laundry when and a dusky-haired trainer about my age came up next to me. He had to reassure the people behind me (again Kalosians, being the irksome creatures that we are) that he wasn't in line before we could even exchange greetings. I was surprised-yet-not-surprised to see him here: he was from Sinnoh and his name was Ulysses. We'd met at an information session in his home Region (I'd travelled through Sinnoh to get to Hoenn from Kalos), and maintained somewhat regular but brief contact via my Nav+ and his Poketch watch. He examined me for a moment, and frowned slightly.

"Are you all right? You look… unwell." I smiled sardonically. I'd managed to get a good look at myself earlier, after I'd showered. I had dark circles under my eyes to rival a football player's, I was paler than usual and there was the split lip of course.

"It was a long flight." He noticed the mud-spattered flight jacket I was holding and tilted his head slightly in mild concern.

"That's all?" He meant of course, "that's not all, is it?", but he wasn't the type to directly confront people with questions.

"No," I said at length, "but I'm too drained to tell you now. Once I'm done here with my things I need to go sleep for a few hours, and then we can talk. I'm kind of not sure how I'm standing right now, my head feels like someone put a lead block on top of my brain." We both looked at the line for the washing machines. It was long. For a moment I thought about asking him if he'd stand in line for me, and for a moment he looked like he might volunteer to do so of his own accord, but we both said nothing and ended up just staring at our shoes; we were unsure of how to act after basically never having seen each other in person since the first time we'd met. Mine were still mildly muddy, his looked like they'd been shined two-to-three days prior. The line shuffled slowly as a couple people made for the dryers. My right leg, the one with the scratch, shivered a little when I put more weight on it. _Stupid leg. Stupid Noctowl-rider. Stupid Steven for getting abducted,_ I growled mentally. Ulysses looked a little like he was going to leave. _No, stay,_ I wanted to tell him, _Arceus knows I need the company right now._ But I knew if I said that he'd probably leave immediately, so I tried small talk to keep him around. "Are those new?"

"What?"

"Your shoes."

"A couple months. I guess." He frowned awkwardly like people do when they're stuck with somebody and they don't know what to do with themselves. I closed my eyes. I must've swayed a little, because when I forced them open again Ulysses looked nervous. "…maybe you should sit down."

"I probably should. But I also need to do my laundry, and I'm already two-thirds through the line." It had taken me almost 45 minutes to get this far.

"Maybe do it later." I glanced back at the people in front of me. There were about 20, and it took a while for each to deal with their stuff. "Look, because I have to go find someone and I don't really want to, um, leave you here… like this."

"You mean when I look like I'm gonna pass out any second?"

"Yeah. Maybe you'll feel better if you go rest, and we can talk about how you got here when you're in line again later."

"Okay. I'll do it later." I weaved my way through the crowds and outside to where I'd set up a makeshift camp from a thin sheet of waterproof material. I covered my head with my blanket and remembered nothing else until I woke again in late afternoon.

My Nav+ was making noises. I rolled over and grabbed for it. The League looked nowhere near deserted, and nobody seemed to be in a better or worse mood, so I knew whatever notification I had gotten had nothing to do with Steven. It was Ulysses; he was looking for me. I answered him and rearranged my things while waiting for him to answer. Instead he walked up behind me.

"Oh! Sorry, didn't expect you to come over here, thought you'd wait for me by the door to the Center."

"I thought about it, but it's mobbed over there." Ulysses shared my distaste of large crowds. "Got your stuff?" I grabbed the muddy, ripped things that needed washed and stood up, right leg still protesting. Ulysses glanced at me, analyzing, but said nothing.

The line for laundry was still ominously long. Ulysses frowned deeply at it and I gave it a death glare.

"They really should have brought more amenities in to prepare for this when they learned the foreign Leagues were coming," I growled.

"There wasn't any time," Ulysses explained. "For us in Sinnoh, only the trainers who could get to our League within twelve hours could come, and we only had a few more hours to prepare once we got there. It all happened very fast." I realized he looked rather drained himself.

"Did you get here today too then?"

"This morning at around six." I shook my head. "They let us sleep on the plane at least."

"Better than my flight anyway." I shot a nasty look off at nothing.

"Yes, that. Do you mind elaborating?" I sighed very loudly.

"Yeah, alright." I filled him in on how I'd gotten here. By the time my story had finished, we had only gotten through four people's laundry. Ulysses looked at the line again and turned back to me, somewhat hesitantly.

"About the fight… Can you tell me about that?" I frowned at him.

"Why? What's your reason for wanting the bloody details? Do you Fly?" I knew he was trained to Fly; every League trainer that had gotten as far as the Veilstone gym was trained to Fly. Ulysses had most definitely beaten that gym. Ulysses had defeated Cynthia, Sinnoh's champion. He was a rather highly ranked trainer in his home Region. He shifted his feet.

"I don't. Not… proficiently. I mean, I Fly… leisurely, and for transportation, but I don't do anything… interesting… when I Fly."

"No barrel rolls?"

"Oh no."

"Are you afraid of heights?"

"Not particularly. I just never took the time to learn anything… fancy."

"So you want the details of my fight because…?" I wasn't even sure how to describe the fight to somebody who didn't have any background knowledge regarding Aerial Combat.

"I want to know what you do in a Flying fight." I sighed mentally.

"Well," I said, trying to think of where to start, "it's really fast. You don't really see everything that happens. If you suck or you're new you spend all of your time trying to not fall, and you're probably not very successful. If you know a thing or two, you spend all of your time watching how the other guy moves. There are different ways they can come at you, and it varies a little bit based on body type of the pokemon, but they're all pretty standard. You can only hit somebody so many ways."

"Do you get hit a lot?"

"That depends on what you're trying to do. If you're trying to catch them, then yeah, you do."

"Why would you do that? Wouldn't you fall?" The line moved again and we took a few steps forward.

"Yes, you would, which is exactly why you do it."

"You want to fall."

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. If you want to make sure they stay down, you want to fall." I paused when he frowned at me. "You want them to stay down if they're out for blood."

"Stay down means crash, then?"

"Yes."

"That's dangerous."

"Life-threatening. Often life-claiming. It's hard if you want them alive."

"…Did you kill him then?"

"I said he was dead."

"So you…"

"I caused him to die. I did not physically break his neck and back. I caused him to fall to his death." I lowered my voice when I said this. Accidents often happened in Aerial Combat, when people competed against one another simply as trainers, but deaths were uncommon. Usually the other participant of the battle intended for his opponent to live. This had not been the case for my encounter. Had I left him alive, he would've killed Prion and I, or sabotaged us in some other way that would lead to that end. Many League trainers were used to rules meant to protect participants and minimal bloodshed in battle; they stayed on the path and didn't pick fights. It was different for me. I wasn't certified, I didn't always use paths, and I would occasionally run into people whose definition of "unable to battle" meant bleeding out from the carotid. I was lucky I hadn't lost one of my own teammates yet; I'd come very close. I wasn't sure if trainers like Ulysses often encountered death in battle, or even severe injury. Every one of my teammates had been forced to kill under some circumstance. I didn't suspect that this was the case of pokemon trained by certified trainers. What was I supposed to do to explain myself? Nothing I said would truly explain to Ulysses what it was to look at a battle as a threat to your and you pokemon's survival, to view Combat as mortal, and to justify the death of a participant after all blood had been shed. The only way he would understand would be for him to encounter it himself. I hoped for his and his pokemon's sake that he didn't.

"…Does that… bother you?"

"Why do you want the answer to that question? If I say yes, you'll wonder why I let it happen. If I say no, you'll think I'm… immoral, or something of that nature. Neither answer is satisfactory. I decline to comment." I was afraid when I looked at him now, because I saw in his face a new opinion of me that I did not like and that was not accurate. I was not a killer, nor was I heartless. I was simply outside the jurisdiction of his rules and I did not inhabit the same world as him. I was willing to kill to protect myself and others. He had never been faced with the choice of murder or death. I glanced at him. He didn't want to talk to me. He felt like he hadn't known me. He wanted to leave. "I can't explain. All I can say is it's never a choice I make. It's always made for me."

"Where are the police?" he asked thickly after a moment.

"Not coming." How do you explain the lawless underworld to somebody who's never encountered it? How do you explain that the police aren't even present in such places as unexplored wild, or extremely poor or remote villages and uninhabited ruins? That the majority of the time, crime goes unpunished and unknown? The cities and the roads are civil. The world is not. It's violent. The Leagues and their rules were meant to create a world that is safe from the lawlessness by practicing voluntary restraint. It only partially succeeded. The people that are the most violent were never going to be influenced by the idea of a League or rules, and remain as dangerous and wild as ever. They laugh at battles with no bloodshed, they call the League a childish fantasy. Some part of me agrees with them. It casts a veil over the eyes of those safe within that everything is as it should be. Steven's disappearance was proof enough that there was evil afoot. The Leagues and their trainers couldn't accept it because they hadn't known it was possible. Ulysses shifted. "You've been in line with me a long time," I said, submitting to his unconscious plea to escape, "I don't want to make you wait here much longer. Why don't you go." I felt like someone was raking a set of claws through my heart. I didn't have many friends besides my team, and the seemingly inevitable loss of Ulysses stung. For about two seconds there was a fluttering hope in me that he would pause and choose to remain, despite the conflict. That hope was promptly murdered when he slowly nodded to himself and disappeared off to find his fellow League trainers. I wouldn't see him again for some time.

End Chap

More info about my AU for this story: art/Fundamental-Issues-with-Pokemon-446079341

Gee aren't I transparent? The character who's gonna go through a personal symbolic journey, I wonder who that is... Maybe the one whose name refers to the Odyssey?

Ulysses means well, he's just sheltered. And I mean, Calcine is kind of a rough character, you know, that person who sleeps outside for weeks at a time and fights off packs of freaking Mightyena in the dark. She's not exactly somebody you're gonna act normal around.

If you're asking why she never took the League Challenge if she wants respect and is clearly a capable fighter, you have to think from her point of view. She wants to be respected for who she is, not what badge she's got stuck in a box in her backpack. And she frankly, as you'll see once I get around to writing more, doesn't agree with the majority of the League's rules. She's a smart, tricky fighter, but by the League's rules all of her tricks/strategies are considered 'illegal' or 'fouls' in battle.

And then there is the main reason, which is explained in ch. 2


	2. Chapter 2

This is a short chap, but important. Really it's a transition to the real story.

Cal's team:

Casper, Swampert, M, Active

Traver, Manectric, M, Active

Prion, Skarm, M, Active

Tory, ? (I know what he is, but he hasn't been mentioned yet so it's a secret ;P ), M, Active

Kidd, Agg, A (Bio F), Active

"Escort" ?, M, Active

Bravo, Flygon, F, Inactive

Pan, SSlash, F, Inactive

Silas, Cradily, M, Inactive

CH. 2

Once I finished my laundry, I returned to my makeshift tent and took inventory of our supplies. We were missing a lot of things, so I wandered over to a mart and bought what I needed. It was mainly things like escape ropes and other technical items; I didn't carry potions like other trainers; they took up space, and my team preferred berries and berry pastes which I was able to make on my own. They were often nearly as effective as the manufactured medicines because I would cook them until they were concentrated and store them like jellies in phials or jars; the kinds of berries that other trainers carried around were less potent and effective because they were dried. I set my team's pokeballs out in front of me and did a silent roll call in my head. I wanted to be able to cross any kind of terrain. I didn't like my current arrangement, so I headed to the PC and exchanged two of my pokemon. Silas the Cradily would stay behind, despite his healing abilities. Though there was certainly endurance involved in the task at hand, I felt somewhere in me that Silas would not be suited to it. Instead, I brought Kidd, an Aggron, in his place. Kidd would be able to both take harder hits and deal them; I could count on them (Kidd identified as agender, and disliked female pronouns, despite this being their biological gender. I was not one to argue with a creature five times my size, and felt no inclination to do so anyway. I would respect their preferences.) to handle the most aggravating opponents and to sit in battle for a long time. Their body type was also versatile; they could sit their back and walk on two legs, or lumber forward on all four limbs. Because of this, they were capable of crossing terrain like mountainsides that I could not have climbed in any efficient manner otherwise. I also left behind Pan, my Sandslash. I was reluctant to do so; I liked having a creature that was relatively small and quiet enough to creep up on people and listen, but there was another pokemon that I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to bring, and Pan would be the least useful to me of my existing team. This pokemon wasn't one I was particularly close to; I was affectionate to all of my teammates for the most part besides this one. He did not have a name because he had declined to take one. I knew him as my Escort, and it was the only title to which he would respond. He did not speak but would nonverbally answer with body cues as if he were human: nodding, shaking his head, moving his arms. His company was not unpleasant but because he did not interact with me like the others did, I felt as if he may as well not be there at all. Nonetheless, he could do things in battle that the others could not, and I knew these skills would be invaluable to me. I greeted him mechanically when I obtained his pokeball, but did not call him out.

Kidd I summoned out once I was outside the building, and they stretched a little and examined the area. They seemed to frown at it and the bustling people, some of which were startled when the Aggron moved forward, lurching on their hind legs, armored hide chinking and footfalls vibrating through the concrete. I watched their face and picked up on an almost amused air. _Funny short people_, they seemed to think. A guard seemed to give me a nasty look for letting out a two ton monster on the crowded pavement, but I ignored him and asked Kidd to let me up on their shoulders. I felt less oppressed by the throng up there, and people moved out of our way. It was nice to have people move for me instead of having to move for them. Kidd commanded a sort of respect I didn't ever expect to, and they were kind enough to allow me to share this respect via association. Part of me admired them in the way some people admired individuals that they viewed as successful; Kidd was intimidated by no-one, unscathed by cruel words, and when they had a point to make, they made sure it got across. Some part of me deeply wished for the confidence that the Aggron displayed so unashamedly. We made our way across the mobbed grounds of the league and had a look down at the sea. Victory road was between us and the ocean, and there was a light fog partially obscuring the long-range view of the water, but it was still a magnificent view. I'd missed it.

I'd been to the Hoenn League before, but it had been a bitter experience. I liked the place a lot; it was visually and atmospherically appealing: clear, cool air, crisp updrafts of saltiness from the ocean, the architecture of the buildings was beautiful and old and moss and ivy clung to many of the structures, creating a sort of ancient, peaceful feel. But the people were competitive, harsh and elitist. I'd been put down, sneered at and even spat on by one particularly aggressive League trainer. They hadn't even called the guards on me because they felt like they could push me out with pressure on their own, and they had. I had left for Sootopolis after only one-and-a-half days. I'd remained depressed and shaken after the incident for days, sitting along the creeks in the shade of the ancient trees of the crater, tossing leaves and bits of soil in the water. I had, before then, considered taking the League challenge sometime soon, but now the thought of being surrounded with people like that, even if I was not a target, seemed disgusting. Such hatred I had only felt before once: at the Battle Chateau in Kalos, which was also filled with elitist, exclusive-minded people. It had been the last straw for me before I left. Casper's native region had appeared to me as an escape, a chance to start fresh, and it had been up to that point. I wasn't as surprised as I seemed from my feelings: I knew there were assholes everywhere, but to have been so viciously scorned had reopened old wounds. I eventually recovered and returned to my own world of wild things. Despite being occasionally immoral and violent, the uncertified, untamed community of ruffians with which I interacted at least had a common understanding that everyone was mortal and equal, no matter what their strength. I could trust them to be human. And human they were: they complained and wept and laughed and seethed in a way that no League trainer I'd met had ever done. There was profound emotion and spirit in these drifting souls; in the absence of ambition there was acceptance. The few I'd befriended were scatterbrained and quirky, but loyal and truthful. They had no sense of dignity and therefore were completely genuine. I wanted to be back with them now, but they were weeks' journeys away from me and apart from each other. I swallowed my homesickness and patted Kidd's shoulder.

"We're going to go on a long and miserable search for somebody who means nothing to us," I muttered. The Aggron snorted. "We're going because I feel like I have a responsibility to the security of this Region, since it's accepted me in a way Kalos never did." We remained staring out over the water for a few more minutes, and then I called Prion. He landed on an outcropping of stone above us. "We wait and find out where they'll send the groups, and we'll float between units. Once we get something definitive, we'll tell somebody important and decide how best to coordinate with the group in a position to do something."

_You assume we will find out where he is first?_

"Not necessarily. But I assume we'll find out a few important things before they will. It happens like that when you're alone; trouble is more likely to find you, and vice versa."

_Agreed. And we are very accustomed to finding trouble._ Kidd laughed beneath me. Their laugh was a low, snorting growl, which occasionally spiked into a roar. I felt energy return to me.

"Until then," I said, "we have things to do. Let's go back to camp and get an agenda together." Kidd turned around and moved back toward the crowds of the League. Prion surfed the air above us, lost in his own thoughts. I watched the people move out of the way for Kidd and me again and felt stronger. My monsters were capable. We would be able to hold for the duration of the mission. I hummed to myself, a silly little minor chord tune I'd learned from the other backwoods folks and scruffy scoundrels. Somehow I felt happy, determined even. But I didn't know what was coming. I didn't know that my wildest dreams and nightmares would soon converge, that the two worlds I knew were going to collide as violently as possible; that people were going to have to give up everything they thought they knew and accept reality in order to survive. The sheltering effect of the League had already been cracked with Steven's disappearance, and the pieces would soon come loose. The danger that was imminent was frightening, and the League was bitterly unprepared for it.

End Chap

So we have a little glance into the REAL reason Calcine doesn't want anything to do with the League. We have here a case of unreliable narrator; Calcine is biased, and so even though she doesn't claim that that's the true reason she doesn't want to take the challenge, it is. You can tell because of just how upset it made her.

For people who were randomly curious, Ulysses and Calcine met in a non-League-exclusive setting. Ulysses doesn't know anything regarding Calcine's distrust and bitterness, nor does he realize how the Leagues treat outsiders because he doesn't actively spend much time with his fellow trainers, he likes to train alone. So no, those who were wondering, he isn't quite as elitist as the others.

Violence warning for upcoming chaps. I am graphic when I describe fights as they happen.


End file.
